Blood is pouring on the floor
Just as the urge to feed
The ever soon recurring trouble
I call this thing I need
Staring at the blank written page
And written from the hides
Of these savage insect human people
And the blood from their insides
That blood is my ink as dagger is pen
And I write my sorrows away
For my vampyric thirst is all but gone
Yet it continues to wither away
